Memories of the Rain
by Ky II
Summary: Bleach AU. On a rainy June 17th, nine-year-old Kurosaki Ichigo dies with his mother on the riverbank. And then he becomes a Hollow.
1. Prologue: Awakening

**Disclaimer: **All Bleach characters, settings, and plot belong to Kubo Tite.

**Author's Note:** This story will follow only BLEACH MANGA CANON - more specifically the english translated version found on Mangafox. Which means there will be no references/characters from any anime arcs, movies, OVA, or video games. Sorry!

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**Prologue: Awakening**

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Ah… the pain had stopped.

It had been an inferno, raging and inexorable in its intensity. Worse than a thousand swords, its molten heat had dissolved his flesh and shattered his bones; desiccated his body and ripped open his mind. It had lasted for a second; a minute; an hour; a lifetime - he couldn't say for certain how long it had been. All he'd known was the sound of his own screams as eternities seemed to pass and the never-ending pain wore on.

Until now.

Now, it was gone.

He slowly extended his awareness out from the glowing core where his soul had taken refuge against the bombardment of flames. Sneaking tendrils of his life force tentatively explored this new container, ready to draw back at any sign of the pain's return. There was nothing. He gradually became aware of his new body - arms, fingers, shoulders, toes. Muscle and sinew flexed at his command, his nervous system coming online with the electrical impulses of neural transmission.

He was alive.

Without opening the eyes he knew he now possessed, he allowed his awareness to expand beyond his own self. The abundance of reishi in the atmosphere surrounding him told him he was in Hueco Mundo… and the oppressive level of spirit pressure that he could detect gathered not far from where he lay could only belong to Aizen and the rest of the Espada. He must be deep within Las Noches, then, if he could sense them all in such close proximity.

Las Noches. He'd always wanted to see it from the inside.

Blinking open his eyes, the blurry world around him swam into focus. He was spread out on a raised slab of what seemed to be white marble with only a thin sheet covering the lower half of his new body, barely long enough to reach past his knees. White walls rose on all four sides around him, the single barred window showing only a starless sky adorned with a lonely crescent moon. The room was completely bare but for another raised pedestal in one corner, upon which lay a neatly folded pile of robes and a sheathed blade.

He slid off the marble slab, uncaring of his nudity as the sheet fluttered to the ground. He looked down at himself, distantly marveling at the peachy hue of his skin. How long has it been, since his flesh had last resembled that of a human's? He clenched his hands, watching as the knuckles were brought out in sharp relief with the barest hint of blue veins running underneath. He blinked and for an instant the image before his eyes was overlaid with that of a child's fingers, wet with blood and rain as they tugged desperately on an unbreakable chain…

No. He shut his eyes and shook his head sharply, dislodging the image from his mind. It had been aeons since he'd last remembered anything of his life from Before, when he'd still been human. It had been even longer than that since he'd last cared. Human memories were of no use here in Hueco Mundo. They were simply distractions - weaknesses that could be exploited by your enemies. And in a place such as this, any weakness meant death.

He had gotten rid of all his weaknesses long ago.

His first clear memory was of his birth as a Hollow. Only three things really stood out in that memory; it had been so long ago now that the details had become hazy in his mind. First and foremost was the pain. Oh, yes, the _pain, _unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Radiating out from the center of his chest, it had been an all-consuming torment that blazed along his every nerve. Now that he thought about it, the pain back then had been remarkably similar to the pain he had just underwent; both had changed him beyond repair, grinding his very soul into a different shape and form.

The second was the rain. When he closed his eyes he could still remember the chill of raindrops against his newly reformed skin, bouncing off the hard white shell of the monster he had become.

It had seemed fitting, somehow, to have been born in the rain.

And last came the hunger_._ Or if it can even be called that. Sharp and visceral, it had ripped and gnawed through his body - even worse than the pain. Because while the pain charred his bones and tore his flesh, the hunger came from within. Something new and dark deep inside him that yearned for the taste of blood, hatred, fear, _anything_ to sate the chasm that had opened up in the middle of his being. It had frightened him; the utter lengths that he knew he would go to just to ease the torturous, excruciating emptiness that threatened his existence.

So he had turned his attention upon the closest soul worth consuming at the time in an attempt to appease the hunger. A Hollow: Grand Fisher. He didn't know how he had known the Hollow's name - perhaps it had been a lingering recollection from his human memories that had already been fading from his mind - but the name of the creature had not mattered to him as he tore at its body with his claws. He had taken the older Hollow by surprise; under different circumstances, he had no doubt that the older Hollow would have overwhelmed him without difficulty. But he had been lucky, _very _lucky, and he had taken joy in ripping the older Hollow's pelt apart as he consumed its powers for himself.

That had been his first kill. The first of hundreds, thousands, _millions_ soon to come.

He'd always wondered if that was what had led him to develop such a taste for his own kind.

Because, as he later found out, he was not like the other Hollows. While the others were driven nearly mad by their craving for human spirits, to him they had never held much appeal. No, that wasn't right. They had been appetizing, as all souls were to a being who lived off of their consumption. But he hadn't _wanted_ to consume them. It had probably been yet more evidence of his lingering human sentiment, but his choice of diet had been the furthest thing from his mind as he indiscriminately hunted any Hollows he could find.

Slowly but surely, he grew in power.

The years that followed became a blur of violence and carnage, stained with the blood of the fallen. He did not know how long it had been since he'd first become what he was; he lived only to fight, to kill, to consume. Besides, time moved differently in Hueco Mundo. What seemed to be a lifetime was perhaps only an instant in the real world. So in the endless nights of this desert dimension he became a monster amongst the monsters, feared and renowned as he feasted upon the souls of his brethren.

Before he knew it, he had become a Vasto Lorde.

He snorted at the memories of those dark nights, quickly donning the plain white kosode that had been provided for him, as well as the white hakama and waraji he found underneath. It took him a while to figure out which piece of clothing went where: he hadn't worn clothing - hadn't _needed _to wear clothing - for longer than he'd care to think about. Once he'd tied the last strap he looked down at himself with a critical eye, feeling his lips stretching into a smirk. Whoever had provided the clothes must've had a unique sense of humor. Why else would they give a monster like him a shihakusho more befitting of a shinigami?

Frowning at the unfamiliar sensation of cloth against his newly formed skin, he turned his attention to the last item still waiting for him on the pedestal. The sword was simple in its design, held within a plain white sheath. But with just a glance he knew instinctively that it was much more than it appeared.

And he was right. The instant his fingers made contact with the sheath, it _resonated._

Like a heartbeat, throbbing through his fingers, up his arm, deep into the core of his chest. He recognized the power instantly as his own, welcoming it like an old friend and accepting it into his being. The sword slowly changed shape underneath his hand as it synchronized with his soul, growing in size as the sheath melted away. He was left with a naked blade as long as he was tall, solid white with a wicked black edge.

He lifted the blade, checking the balance before giving it an experimental swing. Instantly the wall with the window blew outwards, the floor of the room buckling under the force of the pressure. Deep gashes were left in the two walls adjacent to him, half the room completely obliterated from one halfhearted wave.

His smirk widened into a full on grin. He gripped the bandaged hilt of the sword, watching as the trailing end extended and wrapped around the blade at his will, forming an impromptu sheath. A red strap appeared over the kosode he wore and he slung the sword over his shoulder, well within reach if he needed it at a moment's notice. The sword itself seemed to give a pleased hum, settling snugly between his shoulder blades.

Casting one last glance at the destroyed room, he slipped out the discreet door in the middle of the only wall still left standing.

He found himself in a pitch black hallway with no light whatsoever to illuminate his surroundings. He shrugged, deciding that the direction where the spirit pressure he'd sensed before was coming from would be his best bet. The darkness didn't bother him; the countless battles he had encountered had made the dark his one true ally. After all, there was no monster more feared than the one that appeared from the dark, stepping out from depths unknown.

He could eventually see a glimmer of light shining from ahead, seeping through the cracks of what looked to be great double doors. As he approached the doors swung slowly inwards, gliding open on silent hinges. Light spilled out into the hallway, revealing the frozen tableau within.

Ten arrancar, seated along the edges of a conference table that extended the length of the room. Three shinigami, one seated at the head of the table with the two others flanking his chair. The level of combined reiatsu that the members of the room were unconsciously giving off was incredible, enough to make any regular spirit buckle to their knees. They were powerful, all of them, and none more so than the shinigami seated at the head who was currently smiling at him in acknowledgement.

He narrowed his eyes in recognition.

Aizen.

"Welcome, Espada Nula. Please, take a seat. Come meet your brothers and sister."

He stepped forwards into the room, ignoring the two doors as they slid shut behind him. Aizen's smile widened as he slid into the last available seat, the one at the very end of the table.

"Now, why don't you introduce yourself? What is your name?"

He stared at Aizen over the expanse of the table, well aware that all eyes in the room had now turned to fix on him. He slowly met each pair in turn, gauging each of their strengths as they no doubt did the same in return. Finally he turned back to Aizen, a challenging smirk fixed on his face as he made himself comfortable in his chair.

Black eyes. Feral grin.

"My name… is Kurosaki Ichigo."

* * *

*Kosode: the coat part of the shinigami uniform

*Hakama: the pants part of the shinigami uniform

*Waraji: the straw sandals included in the shinigami uniform

*Shihakusho: the complete shinigami uniform

*Reiatsu: spirit pressure. I will be using the word 'reiatsu' instead of the english translation for this fic since I believe it stays closer to the original intended mood, and I apologize for any confusion this causes. If I include any strange words in the story I _will_ attempt to define them at the end of the chapters, but if anybody still has any questions feel free to drop a review or PM me about it.

*Espada Nula: I changed it from 'Cero Espada' because I didn't want the same word for the espada rank as well as for the arrancars' attack. I realize this is not a proper translation, since nula could also mean null/void (I used Google Translate, so any Spanish speakers feel free to correct me) but this _will_ come up again later on. There's a reason why it's like that. Also, I made Ichigo ranked zero because honestly, I didn't think Yammy deserved the rank. All he had going for him was his size, to be honest, and there's no way Yammy in his Resurrección is stronger than Ulquiorra or Barragan. So yeah. Yammy's demoted. He's just gonna be the tenth in this story.

**Author's Note: **Hello everybody! This is my first Bleach fanfiction so please bear with me for any mistakes I make or anything I write that goes against canon - better yet, review or PM me if you find something. So. Um. This is obviously gonna be an AU, and how Ichigo actually turned into a Hollow will be revealed later on... Oh! And this fic will just cover the Aizen arc. At least, that's my plan for now. Also, I'll be referring to Ichigo as Kurosaki Ichigo, with his last name first like it's supposed to be in Japanese instead of the other way around. What else? Hmm... no pairings, I don't think, except for the ones in canon. And I think that's all for now? Hope you like it!


	2. Prelude in a Minor Key

**Disclaimer:** All Bleach characters, settings, and plot belong to the brilliant, brilliant Kubo Tite.

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**Prelude in a Minor Key**

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"_KUROSAKIIIIII—!"_

The double doors exploded inwards, barely staying on their hinges when they left indents in the walls on either side. A silhouette of a man appeared in the doorway, tiny in comparison to the gigantic double-crescent blade he carried over his shoulder.

"He's not here, Nnoitra," Ulquiorra deadpanned, not even looking up as he calmly flipped a page in the book he was reading.

Nnoitra scowled after casting a quick glance into all four corners of the spacious room, confirming that Ulquiorra wasn't deceiving him and Kurosaki Ichigo would not, in fact, suddenly appear from underneath the table. When nothing else besides that simple statement was forthcoming, however, Nnoitra's scowl deepened into something more resembling a snarl.

"Well, do you know where he _is,_ then?" he growled, an obvious threat in his words. Never let it be said that the Espada got along well with each other. They may all be technically siblings, but beyond that there was little connection between any of them.

It was a power thing, Nnoitra knew. Between beings as powerful as they, the rivalry was intense.

It was the very reason he was now single-mindedly searching for his orange-haired brother.

Ulquiorra didn't bother to answer, quietly flipping another page in his book. Nnoitra ground his teeth at being so blatantly ignored, swinging his massive sword over his shoulder and bringing it down at full strength over the bent head of the other Espada.

"ANSWER ME!"

The sword crashed down onto the floor, ripping through the surface and sending chunks of rock flying in every direction. The chair that had been occupied just an instant before was irrevocably destroyed. It only took a second for Nnoitra to realize that he had not hit his intended target and he whirled around, double-crescent blades pointed once more at the figure of Ulquiorra leaning leisurely against the wall, book still in hand.

"There is no need to destroy the building, Nnoitra. Aizen-sama will be displeased when he is notified of the need for repairs."

Nnoitra hissed, making no effort to hide his disdain for the other arrancar. "So what, you'll tell Aizen-sama I broke the floor but won't tell _me_ where Kurosaki's hiding his wimpy ass?"

At last, green eyes rose from the book as Ulquiorra fixed him with his usual melancholic frown. "I have no obligation to share any information with you as to our brother's whereabouts," was the monotonous reply, somehow giving the dismissive words a faint edge of derisive contempt.

Nnoitra was starting to get seriously pissed off. "You lookin' down on me, bitch?" he snarled, licking his lips as he allowed his reiatsu to increase in preparation for a fight. "Well then how about I just MAKE YOU TELL ME?"

He swung his sword in a wide circle above his head before bringing it back down full force once again, his sonido propelling him directly in front of the other arrancar. Nnoitra smirked when he saw the exact moment Ulquiorra realized he would not be able to escape this attack as he'd done the last; he was trapped between the wall and the quickly approaching circle of the front of Nnoitra's curved blade. There was no place left to run.

"I've got you now, Ulquiorra," Nnoitra laughed, intending to destroy the wall as well as sever Ulquiorra's head from his body with this one swing. That'd show the arrogant sonuvabitch how much he cared about the fucking _building _and the need for _repairs._

Green eyes closed and Nnoitra was close enough to hear the soft sigh that escaped the black lips. "Useless," Ulquiorra said quietly, lifting his hand and stopping Nnoitra's sword with nothing but a touch. They froze like that for a moment, Nnoitra staring in disbelief at the single pale hand that had managed to completely immobilize his blade, before his sonido took him back to the opposite end of the room.

"You _bastard," _Nnoitra spat.

"You will never be able to defeat me," Ulquiorra replied calmly, his usual deadpan only serving to enrage Nnoitra even further. "It is useless to continue trying." With a flutter the book held in Ulquiorra's hands fell apart, pages scattering everywhere as the binding shattered from the sheer air pressure of Nnoitra's failed attack. Ulquiorra stared impassively down at the scraps of paper and binding still left in his hand before he threw them off to the side with a world weary sigh.

Nnoitra sneered. "We'll see about that," he promised, cracking his neck as he geared up for another attack. His grip tightened on the end of his sword as he raised it over his shoulder, tongue lolling out to taste the reiatsu in the air.

"What the _fuck_ is goin' on here?"

Both Nnoitra and Ulquiorra turned at the sound of the third voice - one that had come from the same doorway Nnoitra had entered through earlier. They were met with narrowed eyes and an excited grin, the expression made all the more fearsome by the white jaw of a Hollow mask that stretched in painful parody.

"Grimmjow," Ulquiorra uttered, more a statement than a greeting.

"Damn _straight_ it's me," Grimmjow growled, advancing upon the two with the confident grace of a hunting feline. "And what the fuck were you two doin' just now, startin' a fight?" He cracked his knuckles, grin stretching wider until it was more a baring of teeth than any recognizable human expression. "If you two were plannin' on goin' head to head somebody should've invited _me_."

"Stay out of this, Number Six," Nnoitra snorted dismissively. "Daddy'll play with you later."

Grimmjow snapped. "You wanna say that again, you _asshole_?"

Before either of them could advance another step towards each other Ulquiorra pushed off of the wall, dusting his hands of the remaining fragments of his destroyed book. "I have no intention of fighting with either of you," he announced in a monotone. "Nor do I have any intention of revealing Kurosaki Ichigo's location to those too ignorant to find out for themselves. If you two are determined to fight each other, then I do not have any obligation to stop you." And with that Ulquiorra was gone, his sonido nearly silent as he disappeared from the room.

"Hey, come back here and answer my question you—!" Nnoitra's own sonido was stopped by a rough hand gripping his elbow and he whirled around, snarling in Grimmjow's face. "Who the _fuck_ gave you permission to touch me?"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up already," Grimmjow muttered, wiping his hand on the wall as if he'd just come in contact with something disgusting. "What the hell was _he_ mutterin' about Ichigo for anyways?"

Nnoitra narrowed his eyes. For some reason, ever since their youngest brother's birth, Kurosaki and Grimmjow seemed to have come to some sort of instant understanding. Arrancars were usually solitary creatures, or at least those of the Espada were, but Nnoitra's careful observation of Kurosaki Ichigo had shown that the two of them actually seemed to _get along._ Hell, if Nnoitra didn't know better, he'd even say they were something along the lines of _friends._

Pathetic.

"None of your business," he shrugged, turning back to the doorway. At this rate, Ulquiorra would be too far away already for him to catch up with his sonido - and of course there was the added fact that he didn't have the faintest idea where the other arrancar had even _went._ Great. Just _great_. He mentally debated whether or not to rough Grimmjow up a bit for causing him to lose track of the fourth Espada. The bastard deserved it, weakling as he was.

"Yeah? Well how 'bout I _make_ it my business, then?" Grimmjow challenged, appearing in front of Nnoitra and blocking his way. "I can tell you this: if you're lookin' for Ichigo just to fight him again, you might as well give up. He's the Espada _Nula_ and you're only fifth. You might as well pull your head outta your ass already and start seein' things as they are."

Nnoitra's grip on his sword tightened at the not-so-subtle implication. "What're you trying to say, Grimmjow? You think that weakass punk is enough to defeat _me?_ He doesn't even have a Resurrección!"

Grimmjow snorted at the low jab. It was true, though. Every arrancar was born with their zanpakuto - an extension of themselves and a seal for their full power - as well as the intrinsic knowledge of how to release that seal. But in the case of their youngest brother, it was slightly different. While Ichigo had been born with the seal on his powers like all the rest, he had not been born with the knowledge of how to remove it. Indeed some, like Nnoitra, believed that he could not remove it at _all,_ and saw it as a sign of weakness.

Which, in Grimmjow's opinion, was about as stupid as an arrancar could get.

"You forget, Nnoitra, that that '_weakass punk'_ managed to defeat you when you were fully released even _without_ his Resurrección," Grimmjow shot back, feeling a jolt of savage glee at the way Nnoitra's face darkened at the reminder. "Now how 'bout you do the math and ask yourself what that says about _you,_ eh?"

"Che," Nnoitra scoffed, but he knew Grimmjow had a point. The first thing he'd done after their youngest brother's birth was challenge him to a fight, demanding for both of them to release their zanpakutos so they'd battle at full power. It had only made sense to him, as the fifth Espada, to test the strength of their newest member. He'd never accept somebody _weaker_ than him to hold a higher rank, let alone the spot of Espada Nula; most powerful of all arrancars.

And then Kurosaki had blinked at him and said _oh so nonchalantly _that no, he couldn't release his zanpakuto.

He'd had thought the kid was mocking him at the time. After all, who'd ever heard of an arrancar that _couldn't _release? So he'd called on his own zanpakuto and attacked full strength, intent on _forcing_ the kid to fight him as an equal.

Nnoitra shuddered at the memory. The result of that particular match had went against everyone's expectations, none more so than his own.

Kurosaki had taken one look at his Resurrección body and burst out laughing. Nnoitra could still hear it echoing in his ears - "_so you're a bug_,_ Nnoitra! Never would've guessed it"_ - and felt the familiar surge of rage infuse him. Fucking asshole, he didn't even _have _a Resurrección. He had no right to laugh at the Resurrección of others.

The next few moments were a blur in his mind. The fight - or if it could even be called a fight - had been completely one-sided. Nnoitra was left chasing shadows when Kurosaki literally _disappeared,_ moving too fast for even _him _in his Resurrección form to see. It didn't take long for him to realize that Kurosaki was _playing _with him, taunting him by slowing down to be visible at certain moments and laughing when he lunged at the moving form, disappearing as quickly from view as he had appeared.

The fight had ended when Kurosaki declared that he was bored - _bored!_ - of the match. By that time Nnoitra had been incensed beyond reason and had rushed at Kurosaki's turned back, determined to land at least _one_ hit on the bastard, no matter how cheap it might be.

And then all of his scythes had been brought to a sudden halt against a single upraised hand. The next thing Nnoitra knew he was lying flat on his back, all six of his Resurrección arms ripped from his body and Kurosaki Ichigo's wild yellow irises staring down at him from within completely black eyes.

A hand, the fingers carefully folded into the shape of a gun, came to rest directly over Nnoitra's eyepatch.

"_Bang,"_ Kurosaki Ichigo whispered, and Nnoitra was left shaking in the middle of a giant crater of sand as the cero passed harmlessly through his Hollow hole and into the ground beneath his head.

He had been completely and utterly overwhelmed.

Of course, he couldn't even lie there in peace with the last remaining scraps of his dignity. Tesra, the idiot, had to come running up screaming something about revenge. Kurosaki had taken one look at the other arrancar and Tesra had dropped to his knees, pushed down instantaneously by the heavy, choking pressure of the Espada Nula's unleashed reiatsu.

Kurosaki then blinked at Tesra, shrugged, and went off mumbling about finding something to eat.

Nnoitra scowled. That had been the most humiliating fight - the most humiliating _moment_ - of his entire existence. And it had been in front of the entire Espada, too, as well as most of their Fracción, since they'd all come to watch the match when they'd sensed the rising reiatsu. Not only that but Kurosaki hadn't even had the guts to kill him off properly afterwards, leaving him a living disgrace with the memory of his failure.

And for that, Nnoitra would never forgive him.

"Well if you're really _that_ determined to find Ichigo, I guess I won't stop you," Grimmjow suddenly decided when Nnoitra refused to back down, moving so he was no longer blocking the door. A knowing smirk stretched across his face. "Ichigo would probably like the chance to play with you again, anyways."

Nnoitra glared wordlessly at the other arrancar, shouldering past him as he stepped out into the hall. He'd let the asshole live - for now. He had bigger fish to fry.

"Oh, by the way, he's not in Las Noches," Grimmjow called out tauntingly from behind him, making Nnoitra pause mid-step. "That's probably why you couldn't find him earlier."

"Who says I couldn't find him earlier?"

Grimmjow snorted. "Why else would you be talkin' to _Ulquiorra?"_

Nnoitra gritted his teeth and reluctantly turned back to face Grimmjow, who was leaning smugly against the doorway and smirking like a cat eyeing a particularly fat mouse. Nnoitra silently vowed to wipe that smirk off his face - later. "Fine. If he's not in Las Noches, then I suppose _you _know where he went?"

"O' course," Grimmjow nodded, crossing his arms. After deliberately waiting long enough for Nnoitra to be near vibrating with impatience, he added, "He's with his Fracción."

Nnoitra blinked. Wait, what?

"Since when did _Kurosaki_ have a Fracción?"

* * *

He ran across the unchanging desert landscape, nearly invisible in his white robes against the sand if not for the vibrant orange of his hair. His pursuers were getting closer; he could feel their reiatsu closing in from not far behind. Quickly turning to glance over his shoulder, all that met his eyes was an endless expanse of desert with the hulking shape of Las Noches far off in the distance.

Tch. They must've gone underground, then. Damn.

A hand smacked down on his head, a voice on the verge of tears whimpering into his ear. "Hurry up, Itsugo! They're almost here!"

Ichigo tightened his grip on the small legs that hung over his shoulders, adding an extra burst of speed at the warning. "I know, Nel, I know," he muttered to the little girl hunched over his head, feeling tiny fingers clutching at strands of his hair. He winced when he felt a particularly large handful rip right out and wondered if this would qualify as premature balding.

"Itsugo!"

The area directly behind them suddenly burst upwards in a spray of sand, the mouth of a huge monster darting forwards from the hole it had created and revealing the two smaller beings perched upon its back.

"We present, Pesche Guatiche and Dondochakka Birstanne!" the smaller of the two riding on the monster shouted in victory, both of them jumping together into a v-shaped pose. The monster they were riding howled loudly in complaint. "Oh, and of course don't forget Bawabawa, pet extraordinaire!" the two hastily added in unison, pointing down at the now smiling creature.

"Shit!" Ichigo yelled, managing to regain his balance in an instant from the shockwave of the monster's sudden appearance and pumping his legs as fast as they would go. "Shit shit shit shit _shit!"_

"Hurry up!" Nel wailed from above him, her hands smacking down none-too-gently onto the top of his head. "Itsugo they're coming! Itsugo they're almost here!" Ichigo didn't have to look up to know the kid was bawling her eyes out and snotting all over him at this point; he could feel the wetness already seeping into his hair and the top of his collar.

Wait a second. He could feel—?

He wasted no time in yanking the child off of his shoulders, holding her at arm's length by the hood of her gown. "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SPRAYING YOUR LIQUIDS ALL OVER ME?" he yelled in disgust, shuddering as he felt something wet and slimy and definitely _gross_ sliding down his back. He grimly resolved to take a _very _long bath after this - good thing each of the Espada were given their own palaces within the huge complex that was Las Noches, complete with giant bathtubs and as much hot water as they could possibly want.

Nel turned large hazel eyes towards him, a combination of snot and tears running down her cheeks and dribbling from her chin. "But— but— _Itsugo!"_ she screamed, looking utterly pathetic as she hung limply from his hand, swaying slightly as he continued running away from the pursuit.

They were _both_ screaming when Bawabawa's head suddenly swooped down not three feet in front of them, and they would've been swallowed if Ichigo hadn't halted his dead sprint in time. Before he had time to run in the opposite direction, though, the rest of Bawabawa's body had curled around from behind to trap them in the circle that was created, effectively sealing off all chances of escape.

Pesche and Dondochakka stood up on Bawabawa's body, looking down solemnly at their captured prey. "You know what this is, Dondochakka?" Pesche asked grimly.

Dondochakka nodded, the expression on his huge face unusually serious. "Yes, Pesche. I know."

Both of them were instantaneously sobbing rivers, fingers pointed accusingly at Ichigo and Nel. "IT'S REVENGE ON BOTH OF YOU FOR IGNORING OUR INTRODUCTION!"they shouted at the same time, tears and snot flying everywhere. Even Bawabawa was making crying noises, though it was hard to be sure considering that the insect Hollow currently had its face buried in the sand.

Nel huffed a breath and looked away, having stopped crying when the game had ended. "Pethue and Dondochakka wouldn't have won if Itsugo had uthed thonido," she grumbled in disappointment, still dangling from Ichigo's outstretched arm.

"HOW DARE YOU LOOK DOWN AT OUR GREAT PURSUIT?" Pesche yelled loudly in disgruntled outrage. "The great Pesche and Dondochakka are able to win no matter what! Sonido or no sonido!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Dondochakka chortled in agreement. But then he frowned, scratching at his giant mask in confusion. "But why _didn't_ Ichigo use sonido? We never would've been able to catch him if he did…"

"IDIOT!" Pesche karate-chopped the middle of Dondochakka's face, leaving a smoking lump forming in the center of his forehead. "THAT'S THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT I JUST SAID!"

Ichigo cracked up laughing, letting the dangling Nel down so her feet touched the ground. "You two are funny," he snorted, dropping down to sit on the sand next to Nel and taking his zanpakuto off his back so he could lean against Bawabawa.

"But _why_ didn't Itsugo uthe thonido?" Nel pressed, her little hands tugging at his kosode. "We never would've lost if Itsugo had uthed thonido." Clearly, _somebody_ was a bit of a sore loser.

Ichigo just shrugged in response. "It won't be fun if they don't have any chance of catching us," he declared. Because no matter how fast he was in simply flat-out running, there was no way his two human-shaped legs would ever be able to outrun Bawabawa, a Hollow specifically created and trained for rapid movement across the desert sands. "Besides, this is also training! Running on the sand without using sonido or solidifying reishi builds up my endurance and speed, so that when I _do_ use sonido again I can go even faster."

Nel gawked. "Even fathter?" she repeated in wide-eyed awe.

"SO SMART!" Pesche and Dondochakka both yelled in shock.

"What else would you expect?" Ichigo gloated. The fact that he had gotten that particular bit of information from overhearing Ulquiorra reading one of his books out loud didn't need to be said.

"As I suspected," Pesche nodded knowingly. "It really was a good thing we met Ichigo."

Ichigo scoffed. He had first met the three when he'd decided to explore the Hueco Mundo outside of Las Noches and see his old home through new eyes. And while he was at it he'd had half a mind to train up his zanpakuto as well, away from the constant eyes watching his every move within the Hollow capital. It had only been a few days after his 'fight' with Nnoitra then, and no matter how unconcerned he acted he knew there was something wrong. _Why _couldn't he release his zanpakuto? All the others had known from birth how to do it, but _he_ didn't even know the damn sword's _name. _

Of course, as the Espada Nula, he had to keep up certain appearances. No use showing weakness in front of the lower ranks; they'd only start getting big ideas. Which was the exact reason why he'd resolved to train himself out in the desert wastelands of Hueco Mundo - there was nothing close by that he would unintentionally destroy and no prying surveillance behind his back.

He'd only given his sword one experimental swing, cutting a deep gash into the surface of the desert, when something exploded out of the sand.

And that '_something'_, as he'd later found out, were none other than Nel, Pesche, Dondochakka, and the ever-present Bawabawa.

Apparently the four had had a disagreement with Runuganga when their game of endless tag had brought them a little too close to Las Noches' borders. The Guardian of the White Sands hadn't even bothered to listen to their apologies and wasted no time in burying them inside his quicksand. They'd fallen through to the Forest of Menos where they'd stayed trapped, apparently, until Ichigo's strike on the desert surface had given them a route for escape.

As thanks for saving them they'd invited him to join their game of endless tag. They'd been friends ever since.

"Alright, time for ROUND THREE-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SEVEN!" Pesche announced, leveling two pointing fingers at Nel and Ichigo. "You two are IT! Count to ten!"

"One—!" Nel started, and Pesche and Dondochakka grabbed hold of Bawabawa's horns as the creature dislodged itself from the sand.

"Two," Ichigo continued while Bawabawa darted away as fast as it could with Pesche and Dondochakka holding on for dear life.

"Thwee!"

"Four."

"Five!"

"Six."

"Theven!" Off in the distance, Bawabawa launched himself up in the air and took a swooping dive down into the depths of sand.

"Eight nine ten!" Ichigo shouted, grabbing Nel by the hood and plopping her on top of his shoulders. "And don't you dare snot on me again!" he yelled up at the little girl.

"Go, Itsugo, go!" Nel bounced excitedly, not paying attention to anything he was saying. Ichigo rolled his eyes, giving up at any attempt at communication with the game now in progress. He could always scream at her again later if necessary, after all. He made sure her legs were secure around his neck and double-checked that her hands were properly gripping his hair and—

_Ichigo…_

He whirled around, his hand flying up to grip the hilt of his zanpakuto as the foreign voice took him completely and utterly by surprise. There was no way… He hadn't felt any reiatsu or heard any sound. It was _impossible_ for anything to have snuck up on him… His eyes quickly scanned his surroundings, picking carefully at each dune of sand and quartz-branched tree.

There was nothing.

"Itsugo?" Nel asked curiously, bending over his head so her face hung upside-down in front of his eyes. "Is there thomething wrong?"

Ichigo frowned, giving the surrounding desert one last suspicious glance. There was no sign of anybody or anything in their immediate vicinity, and no matter how much he strained his ears the mysterious voice had disappeared as quickly as it had come. "No, it's nothing," he muttered distractedly, releasing his grip on the giant cleaver. "It must've just been my imagination."

A hand smacked down on top of his head. "If it'th nothing then hurry up, Itsugo!" Nel demanded. "Pethue and Dondochakka are getting away!"

"Alright, alright!" he grumbled, finally turning away from staring out over the desert and running in the direction where the other two had disappeared. "I'm running so stop hitting me already!"

All he got in return for his troubles was another hard smack on the head.

* * *

Ichigo felt the flare of reiatsu the moment he stepped foot back in Las Noches.

"I FOUND YOU_, _KUROSAKI!" Nnoitra screamed, using sonido to close the distance between them while simultaneously whirling his double-crescent sword over his head and down in a cleaving arc. Ichigo snorted, not even bothering to block the attack as he used his faster sonido to reappear well out of the attack's range.

"You'll have to do better than tha—" He cut himself off mid-sentence when he realized although _he_ had successfully evaded the attack, all he'd done was leave Nel, Pesche, and Dondochakka helpless directly in harm's way. Pesche and Dondochakka were already shivering from the pressure of Nnoitra's reiatsu as Nel's teary eyes watched the giant sword draw closer. Although all three of them were arrancars, it didn't take a genius to realize that none of them would be able to escape unharmed from a ranked Espada's attack.

And there was no way in hell _Nnoitra_ was going to stop his own attack just because Ichigo was no longer there. Sadistic bastard'd probably take pleasure in beating up _anything_, worthy opponents or not.

_Fuck._

Ichigo blurred out of sight and was at their side in an instant, ripping his zanpakuto off his back and throwing the cleaver at his three friends. The blunt, bandaged edge would give them a few bruises, but the sword was heavy enough to propel all three of them halfway down the hall and out of Nnoitra's way.

And then Nnoitra's sword was at his neck, the force of the impact making him lose his balance and sending him crashing into the wall. That wasn't enough to stop the giant double-crescent sword, though, and Ichigo heard Nnoitra's howl of laughter when the wall crumbled under the strength of his attack and Ichigo was pinned into a two-foot-deep cavern of crushed marble.

"How d'you like _that, _Kurosaki?" Nnoitra demanded arrogantly, wide smirk on his face. "Although you probably won't be able to answer with your head sliced _clean off your shoulders!"_

"Wonderful, Nnoitra-sama!" a new voice congratulated in awe. Shit. That's gotta be Tesra. Ichigo didn't personally dislike the guy, but his loyalties were completely misplaced. "Nnoitra-sama truly is the strongest Espada if even the Espada Nula was defeated so quickly with one attack!"

"He was a weakling, just like I've always known," Nnoitra replied smugly, and Ichigo could already picture that reptilian tongue licking at his eyepatch in smirking satisfaction.

"Oi oi oi! Don't get too ahead of yourself there, pal. I know you've got a hole in the middle of your face but if you've still got even half a braincell left you'll see it ain't your win."

Huh. Grimmjow was here too? Ichigo snorted at the unexpected interruption, dislodging himself from the rubble and climbing out of the crater that had been made. "Thanks a lot, Grimm," he said sarcastically to the blue haired arrancar as he emerged from within the wall. "I'd been planning on seeing how long it'd take them to notice."

Grimmjow held both hands up in mock surrender, wide grin plastered over his face. "Hey, don't look at me," he shrugged, gesturing towards Nel, Pesche, and Dondochakka, who were all bawling their eyes out at this point. "I just wanted to get these guys to stop annoyin' me with all their whinin'. Figured the best way to do that was to show them you're still alive n' kickin'."

Ichigo nodded in thanks and spared a glance for his friends, making sure they were all safe. With that verified he turned narrowed eyes back to the fifth Espada, yanking down his collar and showing them his smooth, unblemished neck. He smirked when Nnoitra visibly grit his teeth at the sight. "Sorry, Nnoitra, but it seems your sword can't even touch me. It's a thousand years too early for you to be even _thinking_ about cutting my head off."

"How dare you talk to Nnoitra-sama like that!" Tesra stepped in with outraged fury, already drawing his sword. "Your Hierro may be strong, but that is nothing compared to—"

"Did I _tell you to speak?"_ Nnoitra hissed at his own Fracción, swinging his giant sword around and sending Tesra crashing back into the opposite wall. Blood dripped from the edge of the blade as Nnoitra pulled it back. Within the rubble Tesra groaned.

Ichigo sneered at the display. Nnoitra might think it a show of power but all Ichigo saw was mindless, meaningless cruelty. A show of dominance from a beast.

"Pathetic," Nnoitra spat, turning away so his eyes were fixed back on Ichigo. "Fight me, Kurosaki. We'll see how deep I can cut."

"No! I won't allow you to hurt Itsugo anymore!"

Both of them looked down in surprise at the tiny girl standing defiantly with her arms stretched wide between Ichigo and the curved edge of Nnoitra's blade. Everyone could tell she was shaking, and the tear tracks trailing down her cheeks weren't exactly making her case any easier. Ichigo shot a glare at Grimmjow, who was leaning against the wall beside a terrified Pesche and Dondochakka.

The blue-haired Espada simply shrugged as if to say it wasn't his responsibility.

"W-Well, if Nel is doing that… then we won't let ourselves look bad either! Right Dondochakka?" Pesche shouted, running to Nel's side and likewise holding his arms out against the gleaming weapon.

"Y-Yeah!" Dondochakka agreed, assuming the same position as the others so they created a three-person shield. "W-We won't allow you to hurt Ichigo either!"

There was a moment of stunned silence in which all of the Espada present tried to understand what had just happened.

Nnoitra was the first one to break it.

"_These_ are your Fracción, Kurosaki?" he asked incredulously, eyeing the three arrancar with thinly veiled disgust. A smirk suddenly stretched his lips, soon turning into hysterical laughter and ending with Nnoitra clutching at his stomach, wiping imaginary tears from the corners of his eyes. "And here _I_ was thinking that you'd actually smartened up a bit! Do you even have any idea who these three actually are?"

Ichigo scowled. "I know _exactly_ who they are," he snapped. Being the youngest of the Espada, he hadn't met or known of any of the previous members of the eleven whose ranks had been cancelled. It had been Grimmjow who'd filled him in on the whole story, as well as the particular circumstances surrounding the rank cancellation of one Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck and her two faithful Fracción. "And I know _exactly _what you did to them."

Nnoitra's smirk widened as his tongue darted out to lick his lips. "Oh? That's good," he growled. In the next instant his double-crescent sword had swung a complete arc, throwing all three of the impromptu challengers back down the hallway. A sonido later and Nnoitra was right by their sides, aiming a vicious kick at the whimpering little girl. "Then you'll forgive me when I finish what I'd started!" Nel hit the wall hard and slumped to the ground unmoving, making Nnoitra laugh all the harder.

The laugh abruptly choked off when Nnoitra was blasted back and pinned against the wall by a hand against his throat. The wall cracked upon impact, a few slivers of stone falling loose.

Ichigo shoved his face close to the other arrancar, making sure Nnoitra understood _exactly_ how pissed off he was. "Do _not_ touch them again," he snarled, adding just a _tiny _bit more pressure as he pressed against Nnoitra's neck. The wall shuddered and screeched in protest, larger chunks of stone crumbling to the floor as the indentation grew.

"O-Or what?" Nnoitra taunted, his voice slightly hoarse from the pressure against his windpipe but nonetheless holding every ounce of his usual arrogance. "You bastard, you're not fit to be one of us. You don't even have a Resurrección."

Ichigo briefly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again even Nnoitra paused at the rage swirling in the yellow centers of the dark abyss. "Let me make something clear to you, _Nnoitra," _Ichigo said softly. "I have seen the extent of your power, whereas you have not forced me to use even _half_ of _mine. _You at your most powerful is _nothing_ to the me right now. So be _glad_ I don't have a Resurrección, because if I did you would be dust where you stand."

Ichigo let go with a sneer. Nnoitra's hands flew up to his throat as he gasped for breath, his tongue lolling out in a desperate grab for air.

"Let's go," Ichigo said irritably to Grimmjow, retrieving his own zanpakuto from where it lay on the ground and settling it at his back.

"Temper, temper," Grimmjow teased, not even bother to hide his amusement at the entire confrontation. Ichigo rolled his eyes at the blue-haired arrancar, moving towards his three friends who were laying unconscious from Nnoitra's previous strike.

He felt more than saw the double-crescent sword flashing downwards in yet another attack. Ichigo tensed, expecting the strike, only realizing at the last moment that the attack had not been meant for _him._

Instead, the giant sword was flying straight for the small crumpled form of Nel.

"I thought I _told you to STOP!"_ Ichigo roared, appearing in front of Nel faster than the eye could follow and grabbing the blade mid-air. The pressure from the sudden forced inertia caused eddies of wind to swirl around the hallway, ruffling Ichigo's hair and making his kosode billow out behind him.

Almost as if in slow motion, the blade shattered under his fingers.

In the next instant Nnoitra found himself pinned back against the wall once more, the force against his windpipe strong enough that if his Hierro was any weaker his entire neck would've been pulverized. As such he was pretty sure the bone had broken, if the sickening _snap_ was any indication.

"I thought you'd understood my last warning, but I guess insects like you have to be taught by force," Ichigo spat in Nnoitra's face, grabbing his zanpakuto over his shoulder and shaking off the bandage wrapping with a simple flick. He pressed the gleaming black edge against Nnoitra's neck, watching with satisfaction as blood immediately pooled against it. "Listen closely, Nnoitra," Ichigo breathed. "Your sword may not be able to reach me, but mine is _more_ than enough against the likes of you. I was holding back before but fuck Aizen and the rest of the Espada, if you put that slimy face of yours anywhere _near_ my friends again I _will _kill you."

"Do it," Nnoitra challenged. "Or else you never know. Maybe one day when your back is turned…" Ichigo's eyes widened when he felt Nnoitra's rising reiatsu and looked behind him to see the shattered blade slowly reforming itself. The wicked curved edge glinted darkly as the blade moved through the air, pulled along by strings of Nnoitra's power until it hovered directly over the unconscious Nel, Pesche, and Dondochakka. "…my hand might just _slip,"_ Nnoitra finished in a hiss, letting the blade drop.

"_NO!"_ Ichigo yelled, only to breathe a sigh of relief when the blade was snatched out of the air by an annoyed Grimmjow.

"Tch. So fuckin' troublesome," Grimmjow muttered, turning around and leveling the stolen blade directly at Ichigo with a glare. "Let me just get one thing straight, kid," he barked. "I ain't doin' this 'cause I'm helpin' you. I just can't stand cheap tricks like this in a real fight n' that's all."

"Ha," Nnoitra snorted bitterly. "A weakling protecting even more weaklings? Damn. And it was such a good opportunity to get rid of those three pieces of garbage for good."

"You. Are. Fucking. DEAD!" Ichigo spun, sword poised to strike at the very neck he was holding in his hands. He dimly registered Nnoitra's eyes widening in fear when the bastard finally realized that this time, he'd gone too far. This time, Ichigo was _serious._

No way Nnoitra was walking out of _this_ one alive.

A wind suddenly howled through the hallway, ruffling clothing and sending dust scattering everywhere. All of them could sense the whirlpool of reishi that was being sucked out through the entire fortress, rocking the ground under their feet. Ichigo's sword froze a hair's breadth away from the skin of Nnoitra's neck, the fifth Espada sucking in lungfuls of air against the adrenaline pumping through his body and hyper-aware of the blade flashing in the edges of his vision. The iron grip at Nnoitra's throat stayed firm as the disturbed reishi slowly settled back into its regular flow, all of them knowing with the instinctive sense of a Hollow what exactly had disturbed the reishi to such an extent.

Somebody had opened a Garganta within the throne room of Las Noches.

The flare of familiar, oppressive reiatsu that followed and the subsequent shuddering of the reishi particles only served to confirm what they already knew. Ichigo reluctantly withdrew his sword and released Nnoitra's throat with a scowl, settling the rewrapped blade back in the holster at his back. As the Espada Nula he had a fair amount of leeway with the rules, but if he killed Nnoitra now even _he_ wouldn't be able to go unpunished.

"You got lucky today, you bastard," Ichigo spat darkly as Nnoitra collapsed onto the ground. "But the next time you even _think_ about going after Nel and the others again, remember that miracles never happen twice."

He picked up the still-unconscious little girl and settled her safely on his shoulders, grabbing Pesche and Dondochakka under each arm. A sonido later and he was within his own palace - the portion of Las Noches that had been marked specifically for his personal use - where he lay them down gently on the giant bed that he'd been given.

"You ready?" Grimmjow asked from the doorway, having followed Ichigo up.

He nodded once, a short jerk of his head. Without another word the both of them disappeared from view, making their way up towards the throne room to meet the other Espada that had already surely gathered. They had all definitely felt the disturbance in the reishi, and each one of them would've known exactly what it meant. They had all been waiting for this moment their entire lives, and none of them would be exempted from this particular meeting today. The opening of the Garganta hadn't been a simple arrival into their dimension, after all.

It was a call to war.

Because Aizen had returned from Soul Society, and now it was their turn to fight.

This was the reason they'd been born.

* * *

*Reishi: spirit particles. Think of atoms, except in the spirit world. It's different from reiatsu because instead of being produced by any specific being, reishi is like the ambient spiritual pieces existing in the environment and atmosphere as the basis of the dimension. At least, that's my impression of them. Anybody with a better definition please correct me!

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed/favorited/followed this story! I'm really really super bad with keeping up with the updates, so I have no idea when the next chapter will be out. Yeah... Well anyways, hope everybody liked it so far, and I'm trying to avoid using too many Hollow!Ichigo clichés. Although to be honest I haven't really read that much Bleach fanfiction, so I'm kinda running blind here. Feel free to tell me if anything I write gets too cheesy or totally ooc :D


	3. Variations

**Disclaimer:** Still not mine. Curses.

* * *

**Variations**

* * *

"Welcome back, Aizen-sama."

Ichigo was silent as he watched the two female arrancar reverently approach the raised dais where Aizen sat on his marble throne. The expansive throne room of Las Noches had been designed with large ascending steps on either side of the cleared path in the center, allowing those of the Espada to either sit or stand in the provided space when attending any gatherings held within. Ichigo was currently standing in the shadows of the highest one with Grimmjow lounging at the edge beside him. The rest of the Espada were scattered throughout the cavernous space, either alone or in pairs.

"Loly, Menoly," Aizen nodded at the two, smiling benignly. "How were things while I was away?"

Ichigo bit back a snort when the two female arrancar nearly melted at the attention. Though not officially enlisted in any Fracción, everybody knew the two belonged solely to Aizen. Their level of loyalty was right up there along with Tesra's; nearing worship in its wholehearted intensity. It was bloody creepy, in Ichigo's not-so-private opinion. Two young girls and one some centuries old guy? It just wasn't right. Hell, they weren't even of the same _species_, let alone age category.

"There were no problems at all, Aizen-sama," Loly reported dutifully, blushing slightly when Aizen's entire attention was fixed upon her. "Aside from a few necessary repairs to the floors and walls of various areas within the fortress, no special events requiring your attention have occurred since you were last here."

"Repairs?" Aizen repeated, curiosity sharpening his gaze.

Ichigo didn't miss the glare Loly shot in his general direction. "Yes, Aizen-sama. Some of the more… _violent_ members decided to engage in several confrontations in different areas around Las Noches." Her tone made it perfectly clear what she thought about those '_violent'_ members that she'd mentioned. "There is no need to worry, however. I have already dispatched the repair team and everything should be fixed."

Aizen leaned forwards in his throne, stretching out a hand and placing it briefly upon Loly's head. "Well done," he praised with a smile, causing the female arrancar to nearly swoon at the gesture. With another low bow both Loly and Menoly retreated off the dais and stood quietly by the wall, their role in the meeting now complete.

Aizen turned his attention to back the gathered Espada, crossing his legs and surveying them all with a calculating smile. Ichigo narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the man that had created them before his gaze flickered to the two shinigami flanking the throne. Through various rumors amongst the Numéros and what Grimmjow had to tell him, Ichigo had learned that the two used to be Captains in Soul Society before they'd followed Aizen and deserted. It was easy to see why; relatively speaking, neither of the two were particularly strong. When confronted with the oppressive nature of Aizen's own strength and the man's outlined vision of a new world, Ichigo knew it was very hard for those of lesser power to refuse. After all, despite being their creator, it took a being of exceptional ability to be able to lead the Espada. No arrancar would follow one they did not also respect, no matter if that respect had been gained through fear.

He observed the two shinigami behind the throne, wondering if they too feared Aizen. It was entirely possible for the two to have completely different reasons for remaining under Aizen's command; _they_ had not been created by Aizen, like the arrancar had been, and had chosen voluntarily to follow him on his path. While the Espada and the Numéros had been born for the sole purpose of fulfilling Aizen's goals, the two shinigami must've led their own lives previous to the one Aizen had created for them. It would have taken more than simple fear for Aizen to have convinced them to wander astray.

He frowned at the two shinigami, idly realizing that he had forgotten their names.

"Tōsen Kaname and Ichimaru Gin," was the unexpected answer, growled out from beside him. Ichigo shot Grimmjow a raised eyebrow, which was promptly returned with a pair of rolled eyes.

"You're not as hard ta read as you think, kid," Grimmjow snorted, shaking his head slowly. "Hell, you're probably the easiest one out of all o' us. Never seen an arrancar worse at hidin' what goes on in his own head than you." Ichigo scowled, which only made Grimmjow's grin widen. "See? Now I know you're pissed. Piece o' cake."

"Yeah, whatever," Ichigo muttered irritably. "Which one's the guy with the fucked up grin?"

Grimmjow looked down at the dais, immediately zeroing in on the shinigami Ichigo was referring to. It wasn't hard, especially considering that of the two shinigami Aizen had with him one was always smiling while the other never did.

"That's Ichimaru Gin," Grimmjow answered. "Creepy as hell, but he never acts without Aizen's express command. The one you really have to watch out for is Tōsen. Nasty fucker thinks he's some sort o' deputy o' justice or somethin'."

Ichigo smiled at the bitterness in the other Espada's words that spoke of personal experience. "Why, you ever get on his bad side?"

Grimmjow sneered. "Like I care about that. The guy was pokin' his nose where it didn't belong. Thinks we're all scum on his shoes and doesn't even bother to hide it. He might be a shinigami, but Aizen's the only one we really have ta answer to. Somebody should teach 'im his place."

"He's not as strong as you," Ichigo mused, giving the shinigami a careful once-over. Tōsen was standing stiff as a board in his position to the left of the throne, at direct odds with the almost bored stance of Ichimaru Gin. "Neither of them are. I wonder why Aizen keeps them around?"

Aizen himself spoke before Grimmjow had a chance to answer, his voice ringing throughout the hall. All hushed conversations immediately stopped, dead silence filling the cavernous room as the Espada hung on to Aizen's every word.

"You of the Espada have all gathered here today for one sole purpose. There is a war coming, and you will be called upon to fight."

Nobody dared to interrupt Aizen when he paused to meet each of their eyes, but the rising tension in the room was nearly palpable.

"As you all know, my return this time from Soul Society will be my last. I have declared my intentions to the Gotei 13 and they are preparing countermeasures as we speak. However, I have full confidence in your strength. Soul Society has been weakened with the desertion of three Captains, and they do not have the power to stand against us in battle." Aizen paused again, a contemptuous smirk on his face. "While Soul Society is scrambling to fight we will instead turn our attentions towards our true goal."

True goal? Ichigo leaned forwards, curious despite himself. He wasn't the only one. Nearly all of the Espada were waiting in anticipation, eager to finally learn of what Aizen's plans held in store.

"We will kill the Soul King."

Murmurs immediately broke out amongst the Espada, the previous anticipation turning into tense anxiety. They'd each had their own suspicions as to where Aizen's true aims lay, but none of them had expected such a proclamation. Ichigo glanced at the second Espada across the room, sitting stiffly on his throne of bones with his face shrouded in shadow. Even from his Hollow days he had known of the King of Hueco Mundo. Barragan had been a ruler once, until Aizen had come and taken his place. Now he was simply another Espada, a tool for Aizen's use.

But the Soul King was different. He could not be replaced. Unlike in Hueco Mundo, where existence itself was defined through madness, the Soul King presided over Soul Society with order and balance. Without the Soul King the balance would be overturned, the order broken. Soul Society would crumble.

And the rest of the world would follow shortly after.

"I'm sure you're all aware of what killing the Soul King will bring," Aizen said calmly, silencing the Espada with the conviction in his voice. "The end of everything will fall, and the dimensions will merge and shatter. But I tell you this. There can be no creation without destruction, no life without death. I will take the world as it fades and make it into my own. And you all shall join me as we erase the past and write our own future, as we make a world greater and more powerful than any we have seen before!"

"He's one damn smooth talker," Ichigo muttered to himself. Grimmjow snorted loudly from his position beside him, showing that he had overheard.

"But first," Aizen continued, lounging casually with his head propped up on one arm and a wicked smirk on his face, "we will need to access the Soul King Palace. And to do that, we will need to forge the Ōken."

* * *

Ichigo walked slowly through the halls of Las Noches as he made his way back to his palace. Grimmjow slouched along beside him, all the while muttering annoyed complaints for him to hurry the hell up already. The meeting had concluded directly after Aizen had outlined his plans, including the necessary requirements for them to forge the King's Key. Aizen then did _something _with the Hōgyoku that'd made the entire dimension shudder - something that had rearranged the entire reishi distribution of Hueco Mundo - and altered the time stream of the dimension to match that of the human world and Soul Society. According to him, it'd been necessary to align the progression of their plans with the preparatory period they knew Soul Society would require to act - or, at least, as far as Ichigo remembered, it'd been some other fancy shit like that. Ulquiorra and Yammy had then been promptly dispatched to the human world, tasked with the mission to scout out the Jūreichi that Aizen had located.

It was obvious that Aizen wasn't wasting any time. Things were moving forwards faster than Ichigo had anticipated, and somehow it left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't hope to explain.

"What's got _you_ all in a mood, anyways?" Grimmjow grumbled at him, leering in his face. Ichigo shoved him away, scowling. No matter how brash or arrogant Grimmjow acted most of the time, Ichigo knew the other arrancar could be irritatingly perceptive at times. Emphasis on _irritating. _"Is it because he wants to kill the Soul King?" the blue-haired arrancar guessed. "I'm not so sure about that part either but you don't see _me_ complainin'. It's Aizen's job ta think, kid. All _we_ gotta do is fight the guys in the way."

"It's not about the Soul King," Ichigo shook his head, sighing deeply as he tried to figure out the tangle of thoughts clouding his mind. He wasn't even sure himself just what exactly was bothering him so much. "It's just— I don't know why, but creating the Ōken just gives me a bad feeling."

"All it takes is a hundred thousand souls and some spirit-filled piece o' dirt," Grimmjow scoffed. "What's so bad about that? A hundred thousand souls is nothin'. Hell, when we were Hollows we probably ate twice that number every day."

Ichigo snorted halfheartedly at the exaggerated amount, but the frown remained firmly etched on his face. "Not the _souls,_ you idiot. I don't care about the souls. But that Jūreichi Aizen was talking about… it's strange."

"What the hell's so strange about it?" was the uncomprehending reply. "And hey, a dimwit like you's got no place callin' _me _an idiot."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Karakura Town," he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a distant pang of familiarity. "Doesn't that place sound strange to you at all?" It sure as hell sounded damn wrong to _him_ - every time the town's name was mentioned a surge of _something_ tightened up in his chest. The closest word he could compare it to was genuine emotion, but that couldn't be right. They were Hollows. They didn't feel shit like that. No joy, no happiness, no wonder, no love. He had a damned hole in the middle of his chest to prove it.

Grimmjow cocked his head, mulling it over before he shrugged carelessly. "Never heard of it," he dismissed. "Don't care either way, really. Besides, it's gonna be gone soon when Aizen forges that bloody key of his. Why're you so hung up on that place anyways? Fight with some shinigami there or somethin' back when you were just a regular Hollow?"

"That's not it," Ichigo said in frustration. "It's just… Karakura Town. I just feel like it's important for some reason."

"Maybe ya used to live there when you were still human," Grimmjow shrugged offhandedly.

Ichigo paused, the words striking something within him. Lived there as a human…? That was… "What the _fuck?_ That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" Ichigo exploded, shouldering past the blue-haired arrancar and storming down the hall. The chances that he'd _actually_ lived in this _particular _human town out of all the others when he'd been alive was less than a million to one - not that he'd remember either way, really. "I don't even know why I'm talking to you," he spat over his shoulder. "You're not taking it seriously at all."

Grimmjow laughed, catching up in no time and slinging an arm roughly over Ichigo's tense shoulders. Ichigo tried shrugging him off, but the damn bastard was _persistent. _"It's 'cause you're makin' no sense, kid," Grimmjow snorted in response. "Look, just forget about the whole thing. Who cares what happens to one little human town anyways, eh? If Aizen's serious about killin' the Soul King and the whole world's gonna go to hell, what's one town goin' just a little bit quicker than the rest?"

Ichigo sighed in exasperation, finally succeeding in shoving Grimmjow's arm away. "Yeah, fine, guess you're right," he admitted reluctantly, shoving down the foreign feelings that had suddenly appeared as soon as Aizen had mentioned the town's name. He didn't want to talk about it anymore. He didn't even know what he'd been trying to say in the first place. "It's just a single town after all," he muttered. "Nothing special. The humans must have thousands of them."

"Exactly," Grimmjow smirked, slapping Ichigo on the back of the head. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? Now who's callin' _who_ the idiot?"

"Just shut up already," Ichigo scowled, trudging down the hall with Grimmjow cackling in victory by his side.

* * *

Gin watched the two Espada pass him from a shadowed alcove, making sure to suppress his reiatsu as much as he was able. What little trickles of his power that still managed to escape were indistinguishable in the mix of powerful reiatsu from the rest of the occupants of Las Noches. He couldn't help but overhear snippets of the conversation as the two walked by, narrowing his eyes when a rough, annoyed voice started speaking of the Jūreichi. As one of the two necessary components for the forging of the Ōken, the Jūreichi had to be unparalleled; nothing but utter perfection would allow them to create a powerful enough Ōken to penetrate the barrier surrounding the Soul King's Palace. Karakura Town had been an obvious choice; the human town had long been a place of high spiritual activity, and the recorded amount of humans with high spiritual powers appearing in that town were astronomical compared to other human establishments. From all perspectives, Karakura Town seemed to be every inch the perfect Jūreichi - the key ingredient to forge a flawless Ōken.

And now… it seemed one amongst their ranks had a previously unknown connection to the very place they needed.

Once he was sure the two were far enough down the hallway that his sudden appearance would go unnoticed, Gin stepped out from the tight corner where he'd concealed himself. He glanced at the two Espada, noting that the voice he'd overheard had belonged to the newest arrancar to join their ranks. Gin looked the creature over carefully, his thoughts hidden as always behind his usual smiling mask.

Kurosaki Ichigo. As much as Gin despised these 'pet projects' that Aizen seemed so fixated upon, he couldn't deny that Kurosaki Ichigo had captured his interest. The arrancar was unlike anything he'd ever seen. Without any broken pieces of mask or shelled areas on his body, Kurosaki Ichigo could almost have passed for a human soul - if it hadn't been for his eyes. As well as the sheer choking, blinding _pressure _of the incredible amount of reiatsu he possessed. Gin had only witnessed a demonstration of it when Kurosaki Ichigo had been challenged by the Quinto Espada, but that had been more than enough for him to realize that Kurosaki Ichigo was far stronger than him - most likely stronger than Aizen himself, even, if it hadn't been for the unfortunate ability of Aizen's shikai.

And then there was the matter of Kurosaki Ichigo's zanpakuto… if Gin had not been personally present during the process when Aizen had changed the captured Vasto Lorde into what was now the Espada Nula, Gin would have sworn Kurosaki Ichigo's zanpakuto was a permanent-release type shikai - one belonging to a proper shinigami. The colors of the blade may be inverted, but in all other aspects it was as if he was staring through a mirror, seeing the world he had known reflected back at him through the soul of a former Vasto Lorde.

But that was impossible. Arrancar didn't have shikai or bankai release forms. Arrancars released into their Resurrección, transforming into a creature more resembling their pre-shinigamification bodies.

Yet somehow… Gin couldn't shake the feeling that there was something a little bit _off_ with Kurosaki Ichigo. The creature just acted too self-aware, too empathetic, too _human_ sometimes for Gin to be entirely comfortable. The rest of the Espada were all still just mindless beasts underneath the semblance of intelligence they had been given; still ready to hunt, to fight, to kill on command. But Kurosaki Ichigo was different. He was sentient… _alive._

Gin found himself staring at the empty hallway long after the two Espada had disappeared, caught up in his own thoughts. He blinked, smiling mask unwavering as he proceeded in the opposite direction with a swirl of white robes. Kurosaki Ichigo was a powerful wild card - there was no denying that. Gin would just have to wait and see if that measure of unpredictability factored into any of his own plans.

"Kurosaki Ichigo…" Gin murmured to himself, his footsteps loud in the otherwise silent hallway, "…what a creepy kid."

* * *

"Are you certain?"

Aizen sat in his darkened throne room, empty now but for himself and the bowed figure of Tōsen Kaname crouched on one knee. His words bounced back at him from the vaulted ceiling, a pale parody of the ringing nature of his true voice.

Tōsen jerked his head down in what Aizen presumed was a nod of affirmation, his whole body stiff and still. It gave Aizen no small measure of amusement every time he watched the other man refuse to relinquish the formalities that he'd learned during his time as a shinigami - formalities that Aizen himself had cast aside as readily as his previous comrades. It had been fun, he supposed, to playact his role as the model Captain while none of them had had any _idea_… But the game had grown old before long, and so he had tossed aside the expendable pieces now that their usefulness had expired.

After all, he had gotten what he'd wanted. And now the Hōgyoku was complete.

"I am certain," Tōsen replied, the obedient, almost worshipful tone in his voice making Aizen's smirk grow all the wider. It was to be expected, after all. He would soon become a god, and such deferential treatment was only proper.

"Very well," Aizen acquiesced. A cylindrical column extended upwards from the floor as he moved to stand from his throne, elongating until it reached the level of his waist. The top of the column broke apart in a circle of flat disks, revealing the glowing blue orb concealed within encased in its diamond prison.

Aizen gazed at the orb with no small amount of satisfaction, welcoming the crackling energy that emanated from it with eager need. He allowed his own reiatsu to be enveloped by the sparking fissures of the Hōgyoku's power, drawing the icy energy within himself. For so long now… for countless centuries, he had waited for this moment. For the culmination of his dream to be presented to him in its physical form - to have the key to godhood literally within the palm of his hand.

And now it was his. All his. Nobody could stand against him, and soon… Soon, the world would bow at his feet.

He plucked the Hōgyoku from its stand, marveling at the tingling it caused to race through his fingertips and up his arm. It was like holding solidified lightning; excruciatingly painful yet with boundless potential, with more energy than a single soul was ever meant to wield. Aizen reveled in the pain, for this was the first step of metamorphosis. After all, no transformation could ever take place if what had preceded it was not completely and utterly destroyed.

"Aizen-sama," Tōsen whispered, no doubt also feeling the growing pressure of sharply rising reiatsu. Aizen turned his attention back on the still-kneeling shinigami, eyes narrowed at the man's bowed head.

"Come forward, Kaname Tōsen," Aizen told him, tone almost gentle as he held out his hand. He smiled as Tōsen rose, stepping forwards onto the dais upon which Aizen stood.

"Come forward Kaname Tōsen, and I will give you strength beyond anything you have ever known."

* * *

The feeling of yet another Garganta opening within Las Noches was a sign for all the Espada to gather once again in the throne room for the return of Yammy and Ulquiorra. Their mission had been a simple one; scout out the Jūreichi, take note of possible threats, and identify if necessary any souls that possessed higher than average spiritual power. It was almost disgustingly juvenile, but most of the Espada had gathered anyways out of a sense of curiosity. The human world, besides being the preferred hunting ground for the tastiest souls, was a place of endless fascination. With such foreign customs and strange constructs, the human world was as different from Hueco Mundo as humans themselves were from their Hollow counterparts. And with their human memories nothing but vague impulses in their subconscious, most Hollows couldn't resist the chance for a glimpse at the world in which they used to live.

But, obviously, not all of the Espada felt the same. Starrk was missing - as usual. The Primera Espada rarely showed his face anywhere outside his own palace unless his presence was absolutely critical at a meeting or planning session. Amongst the missing were also Aaroneiro and Zommari; probably off gorging on some other Hollow and meditating respectively. Nnoitra seemed to be also playing truant - although it was easy to infer that the fifth Espada was off stewing somewhere from his earlier humiliation at the hands of the Espada Nula.

Meanwhile, Grimmjow was putting up a valiant fight against the urge to fidget with impatience, peering into the shadows of the throne room while doing his best to look like that wasn't exactly what he was doing. He'd grabbed the best seat in the house - the one he usually shared with Ichigo - for that express purpose. Boasting a wall at his back and an unhindered vantage point of the rest of the room, he could see everything without even having to move his head all that much. But no matter how hard he scowled or how intensely he squinted there was no sign of orange hair nor the usual white robes that accompanied it anywhere within his sight.

"Looking for someone?"

"Fuck off, Szayel," Grimmjow growled, not even bothering to turn around. The greasy tone and all-too-smug aura was enough to identify the other immediately. Besides, he'd seen the bastard sonido over from the other side of the room just a moment before. Creepy little shit trying to be all mysterious by appearing right behind him when Ichigo's sonido was a hundred times faster.

Speaking of Ichigo… where the _fuck_ was that kid? Ulquiorra and Yammy had just opened the Garganta back to Las Noches, and from all the fuss Ichigo was making earlier about the Jūreichi Grimmjow had bet the kid would be the first one here.

He'd been dead wrong, apparently. The throne room was conspicuously absent of the usual choking weight of unconsciously leaking reiatsu Ichigo carried around with him like a shroud.

"Now don't be like that, Grimmjow," Szayelaporro tutted in response to his brusque brush-off. "What would Aizen-sama say when he finds out that his precious children aren't playing nice?"

Grimmjow rolled his eyes, glancing down at the throne where Aizen sat, flanked by only one of his usual shinigami cronies this time. He spared a brief moment to wonder where Tōsen had disappeared off to - that stuck up asshole _never_ missed a meeting - before his attention was drawn back to the pink-haired Espada at his side. Just because Aizen _occasionally _asked the little shit to perform experiments for him or gather data, Szayelaporro thought he had enough favor to push all the rest of them around. It made Grimmjow angry every time. It was his longstanding belief that Szayelaporro's older brother was twice the arrancar he was, for all that Yylfordt wasn't of Espada rank.

"Why're you even here?" Grimmjow asked with ill grace, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end just by being so close to the pink-haired arrancar. Even though he was technically ranked higher, what with being the Sexta Espada while Szayelaporro was only the Octava, the eighth arrancar always managed to creep him out. Grimmjow didn't even _want_ to know what the little shit got up to in his private laboratory - he'd seen the pile labelled 'rejects' once in passing and vowed to stay at least fifty feet away from the bastard whenever Szayelaporro got into one of his experimenting moods.

"The last time I checked it wasn't a crime to show up for meetings," Szayelaporro replied, and Grimmjow finally turned around to see the freak adjusting his bloody _hair. _

"But it's not a _mandatory_ meeting," Grimmjow muttered sourly. "You never come unless it's a mandatory meeting. You're always holed up in that laboratory of yours doing God knows what unless somebody drags you out kickin' n' screamin'."

"Why, I didn't know you were keeping an eye on me," Szayelaporro purred in mock delight, making Grimmjow visibly shudder. A thin arm draped around his shoulders, a white gloved hand rising to stroke at the piece of Hollow mask along his jaw. "How about you come play with me in my lab sometime, Grimmjow? I promise we'll have lots of _fun_—"

"Get the fuck off me you nasty bastard!" Grimmjow yelled, shoving the other arrancar away from him with enough strength to send him crashing into the wall at their backs. Grimmjow sneered, not looking forward to the report Loly and Menoly would no doubt give Aizen about more _'repairs'_ being required in his precious throne room.

But then again, the momentary satisfaction of hearing that little '_oof'_ come out of the other arrancar's mouth was well worth any reprimand he might get.

The satisfaction dissipated as soon as it appeared when Szayelaporro slowly got back to his feet, uninjured but for a few smudges of dust on his clothes. "Well, that wasn't very nice," he remarked idly, adjusting the glasses on his nose with an irritated frown. "I'll have to go change my clothes now because of you. How unsightly."

"Good. Go bloody change and get the hell outta my face already," was Grimmjow's completely uninterested reply.

But before Szayelaporro had a chance to leave the large double doors to the throne room swung open, Ulquiorra striding in with Yammy stumbling at his heels. The pink-haired arrancar huffed in annoyance at having to go through the meeting in dirty clothes but Grimmjow hardly payed him any mind. His attention was completely riveted on one single detail from the two currently making their way towards where Aizen sat on his throne, unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. Surely— no, it couldn't be possible.

Yammy's left arm had been severed.

Seriously. Wait. Hold on a fucking minute here.

_Yammy's_ left arm had been _severed?_

_What? _Sure, Yammy was only number ten and thus the weakest amongst all of them, but he was still a _ranked_ _Espada. _An attack that could've cut through his Hierro and completely severed his arm required an enormous amount of reiatsu, not to mention the fact that the attacker would've had to get close enough to Yammy to even hope to wound him. Had the shinigami intercepted Ulquiorra and Yammy when they were examining the Jūreishi? Didn't Aizen say that Soul Society would need at least three months to prepare? How could they have been blindsided like this?

How could they not have _known?_

Mutterings and whispers broke out from the attending Espada, all of them sharing the same thoughts as Grimmjow's initial response. A severed arm could always be reattached, but if an Espada's arm had been severed then it wouldn't take much more to sever a head.

Why hadn't Aizen told them the shinigami could threaten them like this?

"Ah, Ulquiorra," Aizen greeted calmly from his position on the throne, his voice easily cutting through their momentary surprise. The damned bastard wasn't showing even a hint of concern over the fact that one of his own followers had just been amputated. Grimmjow grit his teeth, his fingers twitching towards the hilt of his zanpakuto. He and Yammy were by no means close - the best they had were a handful of short conversations and a casual greeting or two in the halls - but they were still _comrades_, dammit_._ Brothers. And it pissed the hell out of him when their supposed 'father' didn't even have the decency to act like he gave a shit.

"Aizen-sama. We have returned," Ulquiorra deadpanned, the slightest hitch in his voice betraying his own unsettled thoughts. It was imperceptible to an outsider, but all of them in the room knew the fourth Espada well enough to have it amount to more than a scream.

Grimmjow glowered at Aizen's unruffled visage. Fuck, even _Ulquiorra_ was shaken, and that bastard Aizen still sat there grinning like nothing was wrong.

"Your report?" Aizen inquired.

Ulquiorra nodded stiffly, plucking his left eye out of his head and crushing it between his fingers to activate his Solita Vista. Grimmjow winced. He'd never get used to seeing the other arrancar do that, no matter how many times it happened. Even as he watched, the crushed particles slipped between Ulquiorra's fingers, swirling in the air to form a projection large enough that all of them within the throne room could easily see.

And for a moment, all thoughts of Yammy and Aizen were shoved to the back of his mind.

_Oh. So that's what a human city looks like. _

Grimmjow knew, in a vague, theoretical kind of way, that he had been in human cities before. Hell, he used to _be_ human, before he'd died. But those memories were long gone, and the experiences he'd had as a mere small-fry Hollow hunting human souls in their cities were hazy at best. He remembered the screams and the taste of the souls, of course, but he hadn't been there to admire the fucking _scenery. _

Now he found himself actually regretting it. The view of green trees and an authentic blue sky was way better than the rock plants and eternal night he'd had to live with for the better part of his Hollow existence, and the fake dome simulating daylight in Las Noches didn't even come close to being comparable to the real thing. For just an instant, Grimmjow wondered what it would be like, to live in such a world.

And then the illusion was shattered when the view abruptly switched from tranquil scenery to Yammy's ugly mug. The room watched through Ulquiorra's eyes as Yammy used his Gonzui to feast on the human souls in the area, complaining loudly about the taste.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. Of course Yammy would find the taste of human souls repulsive. They had all been Menos Grande class Hollows before Aizen had turned them, which meant each of them had spent a good long time feasting on nothing but fellow Hollows before their transformations. As delicious as human souls were to the average small-fry, arrancars like them were used to a whole different degree of nourishment altogether, next to which human souls could appear as nothing but bland.

The scene being played out froze suddenly, leaving a glowing frame projecting Yammy's face twisted into a scowl. Ulquiorra turned to Aizen, face as expressionless as ever. The slight hitch in his voice was gone, no doubt back under tight control. His left eye had already regrown in the short time that had elapsed, twin green irises fixing intently on their creator. "This is the moment where we were interrupted in our mission by two humans possessing above-average reiatsu," Ulquiorra reported briefly. "I suspect that they were alerted to our presence by the Gonzui, as the human female seemed especially intent on protecting an individual that had been negatively affected by its use."

The scene on the projection restarted, showing the two humans Ulquiorra had spoken of. Grimmjow stared at the girl, noting with all the primal urges of a Hollow her _very _flattering bust - not to mention the innocent, wide-eyed doe look that was just asking for some punishment. But all thoughts of her looks flew out of his head when Yammy raised his fist to flatten her, only to be stopped by the glowing orange shield she invoked for protection.

A human. Had invoked. A shield. And had used it to protect herself against an attack from _Yammy._

Granted, it was obvious Yammy hadn't been going all out in that one attack. It'd been delivered more out of annoyance than anything else. But even _that_ should've been enough to crush the human girl's body with ease - not to be rebounded back using a power Grimmjow had never seen before.

The scene froze again. "It is at this point that I noticed these two humans possessed strange powers - powers that are not of shinigami or Hollow origin," Ulquiorra stated. "The human male's power seems based solely on brute strength and attack power, but take special note of the human female's ability."

The scene played through Yammy's brief fight with the human male, ending with the human male's attack arm crushed by Yammy's strength. The human female invoked her shield again, momentarily distracting Yammy enough for her to place another orange shield around the destroyed arm of her companion.

"Watch the process of the arm's regeneration," Ulquiorra remarked, this time allowing the projection to continue as he spoke. "To the best of my ability, I have determined that the human female's power is something akin to time reversal, giving her the means to 'reject' certain occurrences."

They watch as the human female attempted to attack Yammy using another one of her strange orange shields - an attack that Yammy stopped with contemptuous ease. Grimmjow was just starting to wonder what exactly had caused Yammy's arm to be severed - especially since the two humans now seemed out for the count - when the sudden appearance of two new players arrived within range of the projection.

"And this is the moment where two souls of unknown affiliation but immense reiatsu appear."

It was true. Yammy's advance on the trembling human female was stopped by another woman - dark skinned and dangerous. Grimmjow could hardly believe what he was seeing when the woman beat Yammy back with seemingly effortless grace, and even a last-ditch effort for a counterattack by Yammy was expertly blocked by the other soul that had arrived - a man in a dark green haori, face neatly shadowed by a green-and-white striped hat.

And finally it happened. _That_ was the moment Yammy's arm had been severed; mid-punch, with a flash of naked steel. Grimmjow hadn't even seen the hilt of a zanpakuto on the man in the split second before his attack - although he supposed the large green haori he wore could've easily concealed the length of a blade.

"It was apparent that Yammy would not be able to fight much longer against the two souls that had appeared, and rather than engaging further in a meaningless conflict I decided it would be wisest to temporarily withdraw," Ulquiorra explained, the projection playing for a short while until the glimmering purple of the Garganta was all that remained. It cut off there, the particles of Ulquiorra's reiatsu that had sustained the projection flickering out one by one. "I had already scanned the Jūreichi and deemed it acceptable for our purposes, and the only souls worthy of note are the two that we confronted. The rest, when compared to the power we wield, are nothing but trash."

"Now wait just a second here!" Grimmjow burst out, bringing all eyes to fix on him. He hardly paused to take notice before he continued. "You're tellin' me that you let those two souls _live?_ After they managed to do all that to Yammy?"

Ulquiorra stared up at him, his face utterly devoid of emotion. "It was the wisest option at the time," he stated flatly. "The two had already proven they were more than capable of defeating Yammy in his pre-Resurrección state, and when comparing their combined reiatsu to mine I determined that the chances of my success without releasing my own Resurrección were minimal."

"Then why didn't you just release and get rid of them?!" Grimmjow yelled, a combination of fury, exasperation, and disgust warring in his tone. He couldn't understand why Ulquiorra hadn't just finished off the two when he'd had the chance - Ulquiorra himself had admitted them to be threats, and what they'd done to Yammy was more than enough to warrant retaliation. Ichigo would mock him for being overly sentimental or some shit like that, but Grimmjow operated under the firm belief that if one on their side took a blow, it deserved immediate and righteous retaliation.

"Grimmjow, Ulquiorra's actions were correct," Aizen decreed decisively, making Grimmjow grind his teeth hard enough he heard something crack. He thought it might've been his control. "The two unknown souls are unexpected, but can hardly be counted as a setback," Aizen continued. "The Jūreichi is of utmost importance. If either Ulquiorra or Yammy had entered Resurrección while in the world of the living, both the Jūreichi and the hundred thousand souls we expect to harvest would have been irrevocably damaged in consequence."

"So you'd just let them go after they chopped off Yammy's fucking _arm?"_ Grimmjow couldn't stop himself from growling in response. "And don't think I didn't see that it was a shinigami's blade that did it! How do we know this isn't some preliminary attack from Soul Society?"

There were murmurs of agreement from around the throne room, the other Espada no doubt just as eager to learn the meaning behind what had happened - but reserved enough to realize that questioning Aizen was never a good idea. Well, Grimmjow thought, fuck reserve. There were some things that needed saying, and he would make sure they were said.

He'd never exactly cared all that much about currying favor anyways.

Aizen blinked languorously up at him, the man still lounging on his throne with arrogant ease. "Well well well, Grimmjow," Aizen murmured smoothly, barely making an effort to hide the contemptuous amusement in his tone. "Never let it be said that you became the Sexta Espada through the abilities of your mind."

It took a second for Grimmjow to realize that he'd just been insulted. In fact, it would've taken him even longer if Szayelaporro hadn't let out a very distinctive, very mocking snort in response to Aizen's words.

And then it was all Grimmjow could do to remind himself that drawing his zanpakuto and entering Resurrección against Aizen was most definitely _not_ a good idea. Not if he wanted to ensure his own continued survival. He desperately thought of all the smartass comments Ichigo would be making right now if the other arrancar was in his place, holding himself in tight control until he could see something other than a red haze of incoherent rage.

The small smile on Aizen's face when he regained control of himself was enough to tell Grimmjow that Aizen knew _exactly _what effect his words had had. Bastard. If only Aizen wasn't so damned powerful, Grimmjow would—

No. That was wrong. Aizen was their creator. Their leader. And as much as Grimmjow hated it, he would obey.

"The two souls that intercepted Ulquiorra and Yammy on their mission are not unknown to me," Aizen revealed, causing another flurry of murmurs to break out through the throne room. Aizen smirked, wide and threatening. "And I can confirm that they are in no way affiliated with Soul Society or its aims. In fact, I believe Ulquiorra's assessment to be accurate," and here the smirk widened, "they are nothing but trash."

Grimmjow growled, about to argue, but Aizen simply shot him a glance. And then all of a sudden Grimmjow couldn't breathe, an immeasurable, overpowering force settling over his shoulders and bending his back so his vertebra popped in agony. If he weren't already sitting, he'd surely have been forced to his knees.

_Damn…it._

It was gone as soon as it'd begun. Grimmjow panted, feeling cold sweat break out all over his body even as Aizen's voice continued to ring uninterrupted throughout the throne room, as confident and impressive as ever. Grimmjow felt his hands slowly clench as he regained use of his limbs, aftershocks from the sudden onslaught of overwhelming reiatsu making them jerk sporadically before he managed to get them under control.

"Aw, poor kitty," Szayelaporro snorted from behind him, voice slimy with amusement. "Maybe that'll teach you to hold your tongue. After all, you know what they say about curiosity. Especially for your breed."

Grimmjow didn't bother replying to that - in fact, he barely even heard it. He was too busy glaring at Aizen's form still lounging on his throne, the first sketches of a plan forming in his mind. No matter what Aizen said, those two souls _were _a threat. They'd managed to hurt Yammy without even breaking a sweat, and if somebody didn't do something Grimmjow just _knew_ more of their brothers and sisters would be caught in the crossfire. In any case, he was itching for a fight. And he had no doubt his Fracción would follow him through on this little field trip he had planned.

Besides, if those two souls truly were trash then, well, Grimmjow could hardly be blamed for wanting to take them out.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So I just want to thank everyone who's followed/favorited/reviewed this story so far! I adore you people :D Anyways, I'm not at all certain about this chapter, but it's definitely going to start deviating away from canon in the next update. I don't know when that'll be, but I promise to have it up as soon as I finish with it. Thank you all again! And I hope you like it!


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